


The First Snow

by Kendrene



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Sex, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 17:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12370854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene
Summary: Lexa’s mornings are rarely quiet.Laziness is a luxury so rare she scantily remembers it, as more often than not sunrise finds her already dressed and listening to Titus’ monotone reports as she eats a quick breakfast.But as soon as she cracks an eye open, she knows that today is different.





	The First Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small piece of soft fluff and smut. Because sometimes I can write fluff too.
> 
> As usual kudos and comments are very appreciated.
> 
> \- Dren

Lexa’s mornings are rarely quiet. 

Laziness is a luxury so rare she scantily remembers it, as more often than not sunrise finds her already dressed and listening to Titus’ monotone reports as she eats a quick breakfast.

But as soon as she cracks an eye open, she knows that today is different. 

For starters there’s a crispness to the air - despite the windows being tightly shut - that’s so sharp it makes her lungs ache when she breathes. With it comes a chill that has her burrow further under pelts that smell of her and Clarke. 

Next, she registers the silence. It’s absolute, pervasive, the world itself seemingly holding its breath. Or rather - the earth breathes and turns as usual - but its inner workings feel muffled and remote. 

She turns her face towards the growing light that streams inside their rooms and groans softly as a blade of it falls across her eyes. Her arm emerges from the blankets to shield her from the assault, but the next moment Lexa shivers violently, the air much colder than she’d expected. 

She tugs the furs up until they are securely tucked under her chin, and then turns onto her side, the warmth of Clarke’s body pulling her towards her lover’s side of the bed like a magnet is pulled to steel. 

Lexa carefully snakes an arm around Clarke’s waist and presses close into her back. Clarke relaxes back on instinct, her breath hitching slightly before it returns to the natural cadence of deep sleep. A grin pulls at the corners of Lexa’s mouth and she wonders what dreams her lover’s head is full of. 

She hopes that they are dreams of her, and good ones too. 

It’s snowed, and Lexa now understands the dreamlike quality of this particular morning. Soon she’ll wake Clarke, just to see her face light up with joy at the discovery, for none of the Sky People have seen what snow looks like yet. They don’t know the ability it has of turning even the most familiar objects into things out of a fairytale, nor the way it quietens every sound into a murmur. 

For Lexa, snow is a familiar sign that winter has truly begun, and more often than not hardship comes with it for her people. But she yearns to rediscover it through Clarke’s eyes, and perhaps find a little of the child-like wonder that has been supplanted by her duty along the way. 

Besides, she knows that the  _ Natblida _ will ambush her with snowballs the moment she sets foot into the courtyard, and it’ll be good for them to have another target this season. 

Clarke mutters something under her breath and squirms a little, pressing her face into the pillows. Lexa grins fondly and snuggles as close as possible, carefully nosing into her lover’s hair. Clarke smells of bed sweat and the animal musk of the pelts, but underneath Lexa detects lingering traces of their lovemaking from the night before. 

Something stirs inside her, a desire that never truly leaves her belly. Its fire may be banked at times, buried under the ashes of their day to day commitments, but all it takes to rekindle the flames of Lexa’s passion is a passing touch, a stolen glance, or as it is the case now the pleasing soreness Clarke’s teeth have left along her shoulders and on her breasts.

Lexa’s grin turns into a small chuckle and one of her hands splays over Clarke’s stomach, fingers softly grazing the soft skin under one of her lover’s breasts. She can’t resist the temptation and her hand closes around it, thumb rubbing slow circles around Clarke’s nipple until she feels it harden. 

Clarke stirs, ass jerking back into Lexa’s pelvis, and the muttering grows louder as she gradually comes around to the idea of being awake with her. 

Lexa’s hand keeps moving, from one breast to the other, and then lower again, fingertips skimming along the edges of Clarke’s ribs. 

Finally Clarke turns in her arms, eyes making it to half-open slits before she closes them again with a grunt, the glare from the window intense enough to bathe the room in white. She buries her face in the crook of Lexa’s neck, one leg thrown over her hip and Lexa simply holds her, listening to the sounds her body makes as she acclimates to the new day.

“Five more minutes?” Clarke’s voice is thick with sleep, throaty in a way that sends ripples down Lexa’s back. 

“You will not want them once I tell you what happened overnight.” Lexa teases, fingers gently grasping Clarke’s chin to tilt her head up. She kisses her, tracing her lips with gentle flicks of her tongue and when they pull apart Clarke’s eyes are open, albeit still somewhat misty with sleep.

“Titus fell down a flight of stairs and broke his neck?” Clarke quips before a jaw-splitting yawn momentarily robs her of her voice. 

“ _ Klark _ !” Lexa reprimands, but the swat she lays against Clarke’s bare shoulder is playful. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes a little, when her lover looks back with feigned innocence. 

“What?! One can hope.”

Lexa lets out an exaggerated sigh then says. “Something better. It snowed.”

“Really?” As anticipated Clarke is delighted. Her eyes widen and she laughs, squirming until Lexa lets her get out of the bed with a laugh of her own. Clarke is out of the furs in a flash and predictably dives back underneath moments later, her skin covered in goosebumps. 

“It’s friggin’ cold!” She whines, shivering badly, “you should have warned me.” Lexa opens her mouth to point out Clarke didn’t give her time to, but only a gasp comes out when her lover decides to rub icy feet against her legs.

She glares and Clarke sticks her tongue out, with the result her frown melts away. These playful moments between them are rare - times in which they aren’t Heda and Wanheda, leaders with the future of the world resting on their shoulders. They are just two girls that love each other, having a lazy morning in bed because it’s too cold to be anywhere else.

Speaking of which, Lexa knows of a surefire way that’ll warm both of them up.

“I think,” she begins, pushing Clarke onto her back, “I have a solution for the cold.” 

Without warning she rips the furs away and Clarke’ whines a protest, hands futilely scrabbling against the mattress as the cool air of the room licks across their bodies. 

When Lexa straddles her though, using her body to shield Clarke’s somewhat, indignation dies, and the whine turns into a small whimper of need at the feeling of Lexa’s sex gliding against her stomach. 

She’s wet already, she can’t help it really, not as her eyes rake the soft, inviting curves of Clarke’s body, not as images from the night before crowd inside her mind. But it’s a new day and Lexa intend to make Clarke’s first snowfall special in many ways. 

Clarke tilts her head, a small frown digging a line between her eyebrows. 

“Lexa?” Hands ghost along her sides and she shudders. 

“You’re beautiful,” Lexa admits shyly, a fierce blush staving off the day’s chill, “I just got a little lost staring at you.” 

Clarke snorts, but her cheeks are suddenly splashed with color. “Who knew Heda could be a softie?”

“I am not soft,” Lexa counters stroking Clarke’s cheek, “I am simply stating the truth.” 

Clarke really is beautiful, with her golden hair that remind Lexa of wheat fields in summer and eyes she’d gladly drown into. She’s always thought of herself as hard, unyielding out of necessity like an ancient tree withstanding gale-force winds, and her own body is a reflection of it. She’s corded muscle and lean hips, small breasts and toned thighs. Clarke is stronger than she was as well - Lexa has been training her - but she retains some of her softness, and as she stares down the slopes and valleys of her body, Lexa thinks that it’s a good thing.

“Well,” Clarke’s fingers dig into her sides, eyes welling up with the same hunger Lexa knows is filling her face, “what say you about warming me up? Either that or you give back those furs.”

“I was just getting to it.” Lexa soothes, following her words with action. Their lips meet again , in a kiss that’s both tender and all consuming. Lexa bears Clarke down more firmly into the mattress and lays between her legs - which fall apart invitingly at the barest nudge of one knee. 

The chill is soon forgotten, both of them too absorbed in the clash of tongues occurring between them to care. When Lexa pulls back, flushed and out of breath, Clarke moans with the loss of contact, only to shiver as Lexa’s fingers travel along her collarbone. Every touch is followed by a kiss - one, two, three - and after that they become too many to count, Lexa following the pattern of the tattoo adorning Clarke’s left shoulder and upper arm to the inside of her elbow. It’s inked in a blue that recalls that of her lover’s eyes, the design Clarke’s while Lexa herself held the needle to her flesh. 

She kisses along it softly, the skin still healing in places, and in doing so retraces Clarke’s history backwards. The origin point - a stylized star reminiscent of the ones gracing the sky at night - is the last place Lexa’s lips graze, and Clarke jerks a little, obviously ticklish. 

They both know the tattoo will grow in the years - and many years at that, Lexa hopes fervently - the latest additions which are also the ones closest to Clarke’s heart incorporating touches of black to symbolize their union. 

“ _ Lexa _ …” Clarke breathes pleadingly, and she complies, mouth travelling upwards again, a torrent of kisses spilling across Clarke’s heaving chest a moment later. 

Until Lexa finds a puckered nipple between her teeth and then she bites - hard - and sucks it into her mouth.

Clarke arches up with a moan, fingers tangling in Lexa’s hair, blunt nails raking her scalp in what she interprets as encouragement. 

She bites again, pulling at Clarke’s nipple before letting it go with a wet pop. When her eyes flick upwards. Lexa finds her lover looking down at her, gaze half-lidded and darkened by desire. 

A small bruise is forming on Clarke’s skin, and Lexa - eyes never leaving those impossibly blue ones - lowers her mouth to that spot again, the flat of her tongue pressing into Clarke’s flesh as she laves it with slow, deliberate attention.

Clarke’s hands on her head grow insistent, trying to direct her lower, and finally Lexa caves, hiding a smirk into the firmness of Clarke’s stomach. She trails, wet, sloppy kisses down her belly, gradually coming closer to where her lover wants her to be.

She can smell Clarke already, the heady scent of her arousal, and when she lifts on an elbow - glancing down between her legs - Lexa isn’t surprised to find her folds already glistening. 

Her mouth waters for a taste, but she’s even hungrier for the sound Clarkes makes under her sweet torture. Breathy sighs and full-throated moans, followed by whimpers and high-pitched cries full of need. The latter grow in number and intensity the closer Lexa draws to the aching spot between Clarke’s legs, but despite the fingers insistently entwining in her hair, she doesn’t give in immediately. 

She shimmies lower, and starts placing kisses right above one of Clarke’s knees, making her way upward until she’s nipping into the divot of her hipbone. 

Clarke’s thighs tense with each feathered touch, her breathing growing erratic, but Lexa ignores her, simply shifting her attention to her other thigh when she’s done, hands going to Clarke’s hips and holding her still when she tries to grind herself against her face. 

“Leksa,  _ please _ !” 

One of Lexa’s hands slides under Clarke’s rump and she gives a firm squeeze. “Just making sure you’re warm enough.” 

There an unintelligible sound above her - Lexa thinks it may be a curse - followed by more pleasing.

“I am! I swear I am, just plea-ah!” 

Clarke’s jumbled begging is cut off by a moan as Lexa dips her head, finally giving her what she wants and caresses the length of her slit with one swipe of her tongue. Clarke gushes into her mouth, and she welcomes it, tongue tracing her folds with the utmost care. She pulls them lightly between her teeth, before seeking Clarke’s entrance. Even more wetness pools there and Lexa drinks avidly, collecting everything she can and coaxing more out with expert circles of her tongue against the fluttering muscles of Clarke’s opening. 

Her lover’s hands have left her head, and now are grasping at the furs beneath them, bunching them up in clenched, trembling fists with rustles that echo those caused by her writhing. Lexa’s name falls from Clarke’s lips, over and over like prayer, and when she shifts her focus higher, mouth closing into a tight seal over her clit, Clarke almost arches off the bed with a scream. 

It’s a good thing that snow dampens all noise, Lexa thinks to herself wryly, otherwise the whole City would hear.

Clarke’s stiffened clit throbs against the tip of her tongue, and Lexa whimpers, her own hips jerking into the bed below. She loves the way her lover’s heartbeat seems to travel through her body, from her mouth down into her belly and lower, a faint thrum starting between her own legs.

As Clarke’s cries above her grow shorter and more frantic, Lexa alternates between sucking on her clit and flicking it with her tongue. Each time she circles it Clarke’s thighs tense, and when they clamp down on either side of her head, her lover losing all control, Lexa knows she’s close. 

She rolls her tongue over the tip of Clarke’s clit, her lover’s moans growing sharper with each pass, and then Clarke’s hips start to jerk, the rhythm so erratic Lexa struggles to keep up. 

She presses her face more firmly against Clarke’s core, allowing her mouth to fall open and gather as much of her salty-sweet release as she is able. Clarke comes, her climax like a great wave crashing through her body, and in the midst of it she smears her essence over Lexa’s mouth, her chin, her nose - like warpaint. 

Lexa holds on as best as she can, hands shifting to Clarke’s hips again, tongue slowing into softer licks against her clit, drawing out her pleasure until they both collapse breathless into the bed. 

“Come here.” Clarke manages after a while, voice rendered hoarse by her screams. Lexa crawls upwards - taking a pelt with her and draping it over them as she settles into Clarke’s waiting arms. 

“You’re freezing.” Clarke’s arms tighten around her and she nuzzles under Lexa’s jaw before kissing her cheek. 

“You better hold me close then.” Lexa wishes they could stay like this all day, and ignore the world around them at least for a while. They exchange a long look, Clarke reading her mind, both of them knowing that it won’t be long before responsibility comes knocking. 

“Five more minutes?” Lexa asks, resting her head on Clarke’s shoulder and closing her eyes. It amuses her to repeat what Clarke said not too long ago. 

She feels her nod.

“Always.” 

Outside their window, snow continues to fall.

**Author's Note:**

> [click here for more stories and exclusive content](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/)


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